“Really, Mom? Please don’t bring trouble like that to my door.”
“After the way you two left, can you blame me? This is how he treats his pregnant girlfriend?” Disgust drips from every world like honey from a honeycomb.
“He had every right to be mad. I should’ve told him about Dad.”
“You defend him? God, where did I go wrong with you? After all those people did to us, how can you procreate with them?”
“Those people are my family. They didn’t do anything to us. Different MC, different rules and attitudes.”
“M.C.? God, you’re using their slang too. What are you thinking?”
“That I want to be happy and he does that.” I exhale and peer up at the ceiling, silently praying for strength.
“Couldn’t see it from where we were standing.”
“You formed your own opinion the minute you realized he was with Kings of Chaos,” I reply drolly.
“Yes, because I know what that means.”
“How could you possibly? I’m safer with them than I am with anyone else.”
“You really drank their Kool-Aid, didn’t you baby girl?” She clucks her tongue. “I’ll be there to pick up the pieces when this crumbles, like I know it will.”
“Is this why you’ve been calling me? To tell me imminent disaster is in my future?” I ask.
“To beg you to reconsider. You’re not that far along, you can—”
I hang up the phone, numb and pissed off. How could she even consider telling me to get rid of my child? What kind of mother does that? She was the only permanent parental presence. Now even that’s gone. I wrap my arms around my knees and cry for the broken mess that is my family. When there are no more tears left, I call my sister.
“Hey, Ruthie.”
“Rochelle.”
“You don’t sound right. What happened?”
“Mom. Mom told me I should get rid of the baby and start over.”
“Jesus Christ. I didn’t realize how far off the plantation she’d gone. Forget that noise.”
“Why?” I hiccup. “Why can’t she just be happy for me? Why have I never been good enough?”
“Honestly. I thought about this a lot over the years. In her head, you’re too much like Dad. You’re creative, open-minded, and tough in a way I don’t think she ever was. Our past sucks, but we never let it cripple us the way she did. She could’ve moved on, found a man, and formed a life outside of us. She chose not to because she’s afraid. That’s weak. She sees you, the embodiment of everything she could never be, and it gets to her. I always tried to live my life by her rules. I craved her praise and approval to an unhealthy extent. I couldn’t see it until I went away to college and met Tim. He was my wake up call. You never needed that. I envied you growing up, because of your independence and rebellion.”
I snicker. “I don’t think not trying to be a Stepford wife was a rebellion.”
“Are you kidding me? With a mom like ours, just daring to live as you see fit was a direct kick to the gut,” Rochelle explains.
“We had a fucked up childhood.”
“Yes, but we are not our past,” Rochelle counters.
I give a dry laugh. “Used to be me telling you this.”
“So I’m returning the favor, big sister. Keep your chin up. I saw sparks flying between you and your biker boy. I could see the appeal. And you better than most, know the life. I trust you to not get in over your head.”
“At least someone does.”
“It’s not like you to be so on the fence about anything.”